Emma eBook

“Emma knows I never flatter her,” said
Mr. Knightley, “but I meant no reflection on
any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have
two persons to please; she will now have but one.
The chances are that she must be a gainer.”

“Well,” said Emma, willing to let it pass—­“you
want to hear about the wedding; and I shall be happy
to tell you, for we all behaved charmingly.
Every body was punctual, every body in their best
looks: not a tear, and hardly a long face to be
seen. Oh no; we all felt that we were going
to be only half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting
every day.”

“Dear Emma bears every thing so well,”
said her father. “But, Mr. Knightley, she
is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and
I am sure she will miss her more than she thinks
for.”

Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and
smiles. “It is impossible that Emma should
not miss such a companion,” said Mr. Knightley.
“We should not like her so well as we do, sir,
if we could suppose it; but she knows how much the
marriage is to Miss Taylor’s advantage; she
knows how very acceptable it must be, at Miss Taylor’s
time of life, to be settled in a home of her own,
and how important to her to be secure of a comfortable
provision, and therefore cannot allow herself to feel
so much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss
Taylor must be glad to have her so happily married.”

“And you have forgotten one matter of joy to
me,” said Emma, “and a very considerable
one—­that I made the match myself.
I made the match, you know, four years ago; and to
have it take place, and be proved in the right, when
so many people said Mr. Weston would never marry again,
may comfort me for any thing.”

Mr. Knightley shook his head at her. Her father
fondly replied, “Ah! my dear, I wish you would
not make matches and foretell things, for whatever
you say always comes to pass. Pray do not make
any more matches.”

“I promise you to make none for myself, papa;
but I must, indeed, for other people. It is
the greatest amusement in the world! And after
such success, you know!—­Every body said
that Mr. Weston would never marry again. Oh
dear, no! Mr. Weston, who had been a widower
so long, and who seemed so perfectly comfortable without
a wife, so constantly occupied either in his business
in town or among his friends here, always acceptable
wherever he went, always cheerful—­ Mr.
Weston need not spend a single evening in the year
alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr.
Weston certainly would never marry again. Some
people even talked of a promise to his wife on her
deathbed, and others of the son and the uncle not
letting him. All manner of solemn nonsense was
talked on the subject, but I believed none of it.

“Ever since the day—­about four years
ago—­that Miss Taylor and I met with him
in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle,
he darted away with so much gallantry, and borrowed
two umbrellas for us from Farmer Mitchell’s,
I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the
match from that hour; and when such success has blessed
me in this instance, dear papa, you cannot think that
I shall leave off match-making.”